


Possessive

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Prince of Stride: Alternative (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Breathplay, Bruises, Choking, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, No Plot/Plotless, No Safeword, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 18:44:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6163015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There’s a suggestion of vibration in Yuu's throat when he speaks, a purr of action so clear Kei can feel his fingers itch with the desire to feel it, to touch it, to press his thumbs down against the weight of it just to feel Yuu’s breathing work under his palms." Kei loves Yuu's throat and Yuu lets him take what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possessive

Kei likes to watch Yuu’s throat.

There’s something inherently appealing about the slender curve of neck into shoulder, something intoxicating in the dip that settles just between Yuu’s collarbones or in catching a glimpse of pale skin at the back of his neck when his hair shifts. It’s thrilling to see, turns Kei’s whole body hot at a glance, and then there’s the giveaways carried on any movement to tell Kei what Yuu is thinking. Yuu carries tension in his neck, bears the weight of stress straining against the curve of it when he’s anxious and swallows hard enough when he’s frightened for Kei to see the motion under the skin. There’s a suggestion of vibration there when he speaks, a purr of action so clear Kei can feel his fingers itch with the desire to feel it, to touch it, to press his thumbs down against the weight of it just to feel Yuu’s breathing work under his palms. It’s enough that Kei is glad for Yuu’s habit of zipping his jacket all the way up to his chin; the loss of indulgence is painful, but better to absent himself from the distraction when they’re at a race or out in public.

But they’re not always in public.

Yuu isn’t wearing his jacket at all right now. He unzipped it when they came home, working the zipper down as he ascended the stairs while Kei kicked his shoes off in the entryway with more haste than care, and Kei barely bothered to slam his bedroom door shut behind them before he was shoving at the clothing to force it down and off Yuu’s shoulders. Yuu had made a strange noise, something faint and whimpering against the shove of Kei’s hands, but it wasn’t protest, and it wasn’t anger, and then Kei had gotten his mouth in under Yuu’s chin and Yuu’s whole body had arched back against the door, his head tilting back and his spine curving as he shuddered under Kei’s mouth. It had taken them some time after that to make it to the bed, and longer still for Kei to remember he still had his jacket on and to pause long enough for Yuu to work it off him, but now they’re where they should be, with the shadow of Kei’s shoulders falling over Yuu panting for air on his bed while Kei watches the rhythm of his brother’s breathing shift in his throat.

“Wider,” he says now, reaching a hand without looking to shove at Yuu’s knee. “Move your feet apart, aniki.”

“I can’t,” Yuu protests, “there’s no space,” but he’s moving anyway, angling one leg all the way to the wall against one side of the bed and sliding the other so far to the side his foot skids against the edge of the sheets. Kei reaches out to press at Yuu’s knee and Yuu lets him, reaches out to catch his leg with a hand and hold it up against his chest instead of trying to rely on the precarious support of the bed. “Is that better?”

Kei can see the way Yuu swallows, can see the flush of color staining all Yuu’s skin and bleeding down against the pale of his throat. “Yeah,” he says without looking down, and presses fingers slicked with lube against Yuu’s entrance. Yuu’s head goes back against the pillows, his hair tangling and his throat straining, and Kei can feel the heat hit him like a wave, can feel response rippling under his skin as he lets his knees spread wide and bracing and shifts his hand to push into the heat of Yuu’s body. Yuu makes a broken noise, like a shattered-open word gone incoherent on desperation, and Kei can see it in his throat, can see the vibration of the unsaid incoherencies catch and shift under his brother’s skin. It makes his eyelids dip heavy, makes his mouth come open on heat, and then he pushes in deeper and faster than he should and watches Yuu’s head arch back in a trembling wave of sensation.

“ _Ah_ ,” Yuu gasps, and Kei’s fingers ache to feel the sound of that one word, his hand tightening against Yuu’s hip as a poor substitute for the feel of raw heat under his fingertips. “ _Kei_.”

“Shut up,” Kei tells him, because that will make Yuu shut his mouth, will make him choke and strain to fight back the sounds that are trying to spill up the long curve of his throat. He pushes his finger in deeper, pressing hard inside Yuu before he draws back for another thrust. “Do you want someone to hear you?”

“No one’s home,” Yuu manages, but Kei takes another thrust and any further protest Yuu might have made shatters into a moan he only manages to choke off into silence halfway through. His hand comes out, his fingers clutching desperately against Kei’s wrist at his hip; Kei can feel the ache of the pressure from Yuu’s hold digging against him, but he doesn’t comment and he doesn’t try to pull away.

“Kei,” Yuu breathes, finding the composure for almost a whisper from reserves Kei didn’t know he had. “ _Kei_.”

“You want more,” Kei tells him, because it’s not a question any more than the sound of his name was a plea. Yuu whimpers, his leg trembling against the hold he has on it, and Kei has to shut his eyes for a moment, has to block out the view of the tremors of heat running through Yuu’s throat. He draws his finger back, angles a second in alongside the first, and Yuu is clenching helplessly around the intrusion but Kei doesn’t hesitate to push back into him; it’s worth it for the way Yuu strains against the pressure, worth it for the way the tendons in his neck come into sudden sharp relief as he tries to fight back his moan of reaction.

“Like this,” Kei says, and draws back by a half-inch to push in farther with his next thrust, to force a groan from Yuu’s throat before the other drops his hold at Kei’s wrist to clap a hand over his mouth instead. “Is that better, aniki?” He moves without waiting for a response; he can see the tension of desire along Yuu’s wrist over his mouth and humming the tension in his throat into a better tell even than the flushed heat of his cock bumping against his stomach. Kei works his fingers deeper, angles them wider, and Yuu whines loud enough for the sound to tangle itself around and free of the press of his fingers against his lips. Kei’s whole body is hot, his cock pressing taut against the front of his shorts, but he doesn’t reach down for himself; he wants to make this last, wants to savour the sight of Yuu trembling across the bed and choking off broken noises against his palm with every stroke Kei takes into him. Kei can feel Yuu’s body tense around him, a half-formed rhythm of motion that responds to the angle of his fingers as much as the depth of his thrusts, and he doesn’t mean to tense his fingers at Yuu’s hip but he is anyway, his thumb is sliding and digging in hard against the angle along Yuu’s thigh like he’s trying to shove right past skin to grip bone against his palm. Yuu’s legs are shaking, quivering in Kei’s hold and against his own, but Kei doesn’t stop; he keeps stroking with his fingers, keeps pushing in for an much depth as he can reach, straining for another half-inch in time with the convulsive shudders of reaction that are running through Yuu’s throat.

Finally it’s Yuu who moves, who draws his hand away from his mouth and gasps for air with so much desperation the sound is as sensual as a moan would be. “Kei,” he says, and Kei drives his fingers in hard, cracks the sound of his own name into a wail in Yuu’s throat. “ _Kei_.”

“Aniki,” Kei says, and he draws his fingers free all at once, leaves Yuu to whimper at the removal while he shoves against the elastic of his shorts to work them halfway down his thighs. He’s shaking, he realizes distantly, his hands are quivering until it’s hard to get his clothes down one-handed; luckily it doesn’t take much dexterity to shove against his waistband, and besides Yuu is trembling so badly Kei highly doubts he’s in any situation to notice anything about Kei’s own reaction. Kei reaches out for the bottle tossed aside on the bed, pours slick liquid across his palm so he can stroke hasty lubrication over himself, and Yuu is shifting, pulling his other knee up towards his chest as if Kei might not have enough space otherwise, or maybe as if he needs to make an offering of himself for his brother. Kei can see the tremors running up along the underside of Yuu’s thighs, can see the slick print of his touch glistening against Yuu’s skin; it’s enough to ease some of the tension in his chest, enough to unknot some of the frantic near-jealousy that always weights against his lungs into something warmer, into the heat of possessiveness instead of the frantic edge of envy.

“Aniki,” he says, and leans forward, abandoning his hold on Yuu’s hip in favor of bracing a hand up over his brother’s shoulder instead. Yuu blinks up at him, his silver eyes clouded over into smoke and shadows to match the flushed red at his mouth, and Kei looks down at him for a moment, watching the pant of breathing rush over Yuu’s lower lip before his gaze drops down to see the race of the other’s pulse in his throat. Kei can see the rhythm of it, can match the pattern nearly into line with his own heartbeat thudding in his chest; the thought makes him shiver, makes his skin go hot all across his body, and he can’t help but lean in to press his mouth against the line of Yuu’s throat, to catch his teeth against the other’s pulse. Yuu gasps a breath, angles his head sideways into submission, and Kei presses closer, holds the point of contact of his mouth with Yuu’s skin as he angles his hips forward to line them up. Yuu’s too flat to the bed, the spread of his knees not quite the right position; Kei has to close a slippery hand at his hip, has to urge Yuu into an arch against the mattress, but then he’s where Kei wants him, and Kei’s where he wants to be, and when he rocks himself forward his cock catches and slides into Yuu’s body like it was meant to be there.

“ _God_ ,” Yuu gasps, and Kei can feel the sound ruffle through his hair, can feel the hum of it under his lips. Yuu grabs at his shoulder, his fingers sliding for traction as if he’s trying to brace himself against the other’s body, and Kei catches his teeth at Yuu’s skin and thrusts in deeper, giving in to the draw of Yuu tight around him in lieu of a slower, more considerate pace. Yuu’s spine curves, his body rocking up to press flush to Kei’s, and Kei licks hard against Yuu’s pulse and pulls away by an inch as he draws back, sliding halfway out so he can take another deliberate thrust forward. Yuu jerks with this one, his shoulders flexing involuntarily against the bed, and Kei pulls away to brace against his arm so he can look down at the part of Yuu’s lips and the shudder of sound in his throat as Kei moves into him. Yuu’s eyes are unfocused, his gaze drifting hazy somewhere over Kei’s shoulder; his mouth is open still, his throat working over each gulping inhale of air he manages. Kei can see the bruise of his mouth along Yuu’s neck rising to the surface, can see the red of the friction fading to make space for the faint purple of the more permanent mark; it makes him groan, surges heat all through his body, and then he lets Yuu’s hip go to reach out for his neck instead.

Yuu whines at the touch. Kei’s fingers are slippery, slick with the lube still coating his palm and warm from the contact he’s been sustaining with Yuu’s skin, but when he presses at his brother’s throat Yuu tips his head back in immediate surrender, doesn’t offer protest even when Kei tightens his fingers to hold his grip against the slide of the liquid smeared across his palm. The motion of Yuu swallowing fits into the space between Kei’s thumb and forefinger, Kei’s fingertips span Yuu’s racing heartbeat, and for a moment Kei just watches, looking at the way his fingerprints leave shining marks against the pale of Yuu’s throat and at the way Yuu’s head has fallen back against the sheets to offer unresisting access to his neck for Kei’s touch. Then Kei’s hips come forward, a slick slide of motion made easy by repetition, and as his cock sinks into Yuu’s body and Yuu’s throat works on a moan he sits up, and back, and reaches to fit his second hand atop the first.

He can feel Yuu tense. It’s in the way his back arches off the bed, it’s in the way his thighs tighten for a moment of panic against Kei’s hips. And it’s in his throat, in the quivering rush of air as he hisses for an inhale, as his eyes steady and focus on Kei’s face, and Kei can feel it under his fingertips, like the rush of wind through an instrument before he’s pressed the keys.

“Kei?” Yuu says, and it’s a whisper, so breathless and strained Kei almost can’t hear it at all for the thud of his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

“Yes,” Kei says, and “aniki,” and then he tightens his fingers, just for a moment, just to feel the flex of Yuu’s throat against his palms. Yuu’s eyes go wide, his chest strains for air; and his back arches, curving him into a shudder of pleasure as Kei’s hands tighten on his neck. Kei keeps pressing, doesn’t let go until Yuu has hissed an exhale and fallen trembling back to the sheets; then he lets his second hand go, eases the pressure of the first, and lets Yuu gasp for air while he reaches down for the other’s cock without looking.

“Like that,” he says, and it’s not a question any more than the touch of his fingers at Yuu’s cock is uncertain. He knows what he’ll find before he’s caught his fingertips against the slick of precome trailing from Yuu’s cock to his stomach, knows that Yuu will jerk and shudder with the friction as Kei presses his fingers hard against the sensitive skin of his swollen cock. Kei keeps his touch there, keeps his fingertips caught against the slick head of Yuu’s length, and then he starts moving again, rolling his hips forward in an easy rhythm to thrust deep into the grip of Yuu around him. Yuu moans at the motion, his hips jerking up like he’s trying to seek out the friction of Kei’s touch, and Kei spreads his fingers wider against Yuu’s throat, shifts his arm so he can threaten the weight of his whole body against the tremor of air in the other’s lungs. Yuu’s lashes shift, flutter dark over the bright silver in his eyes; and Kei pushes down, lets the curve of his palm dig in against the motion of breathing in Yuu’s throat. Yuu’s focus evaporates, his eyes rolling back with the weight of Kei’s touch, and when his hips jerk up Kei closes his hand around Yuu’s cock and jerks just against the head so he can feel the way Yuu clenches hard around him. His heart is pounding, his breathing coming hard in his chest, and his hand is still weighting Yuu’s throat, his fingers are still pressing a threat against the delicate curve of pale skin.

“Aniki,” Kei manages, and then he’s letting Yuu’s cock go again, reaching out to outline the other’s throat in the span of both hands at once. He can touch his fingers together if he reaches, can make a collar wrapping tight around Yuu’s whole neck with just his hands until he has his brother’s breathing pinned between his palms, until he can feel every gasp Yuu takes slide against the weight of his fingers. He’s moving, still, his hips rocking forward with a steady, instinctive pace, but he’s not thinking about the way Yuu is tensing around him or the heat knotting itself to a weight low in his stomach; he’s thinking about Yuu’s lashes, the smudge of shadow against his cheeks with every breathlessly slow blink he takes, and he’s thinking about the rhythm of motion under his hands, thinking about the way it strains with effort if he flexes his fingers and the way Yuu whimpers when he pushes down with his thumbs. Yuu’s legs are hooked around Kei’s hips, the angle of Yuu’s heels at his back pressing like he’s trying to pull himself in closer, but that’s a distant distraction too; of far more interest is the way Yuu is grasping for Kei’s hip and the way he’s reaching up to close his fingers against Kei’s wrist. There’s no force to the hold, not even enough to make a suggestion for less; it’s just contact, just the friction of fingers curling around Kei’s wrist and then going nearly slack with their own weight as Yuu’s eyelashes flutter, as Yuu gasps through a strained groan under Kei’s hands. Kei’s flushed to heat all over his body, his t-shirt and shorts clinging to the damp of sweat at his shoulderblades and the insides of his knees, but he doesn’t feel the discomfort; it feels like anticipation, like the rush of his heartbeat is pushing him towards an edge, and then he flexes his fingers again and Yuu’s breathing catches and stalls at the pressure.

Kei can see Yuu trying to breathe. His chest is straining for air, his back lifting off the bed; his mouth is open, his forehead creasing, his throat quivering under Kei’s hold. But there’s no movement at his lips, no rush of air to fill the strain in his lungs, and Kei’s still moving into him, still fucking Yuu open while his brother quivers and mouths soundlessly for air he can’t get, for air Kei is denying him. His skin is flushing, his lips are trembling; Kei can feel Yuu arching under him, like he’s reaching for oxygen with all the strength of his body and not just the reflexive motion of his lungs. But his hold at Kei’s wrist is still slack, his fingers still gentle with surrender, and Kei doesn’t let go, doesn’t ease his hold even when Yuu’s eyelashes flutter shut and the red in his lips starts to shift to blue. Kei can feel Yuu’s breathing stalling at his hands, the sound of whatever words or moans he might have made dying against the strength of his grip, and he wonders in a far-off, distant way if Yuu would let Kei push him into unconsciousness, if Kei could hold the weight of his hands against his brother’s throat until the fingers at his hip fell slack and the angle of Yuu’s legs around him went heavy with lost awareness. Kei thinks he could, thinks Yuu would let him, thinks how easy it would be to just keep holding; and then Yuu jerks under him, an involuntary jolt of effort as he attempts a breath, and Kei comes with a groan he can feel down the whole length of his spine, his cock pulsing heat into Yuu’s body as the rhythm of his motion stutters and stalls. He’s shaking with it, his fingers quivering at Yuu’s throat, and it’s only as the first crush of heat eases its hold on him that he lets his grip loosen to allow Yuu to hiss a desperate lungful of air for himself. Yuu’s panting, straining for oxygen as Kei lifts a hand and reaches down for his cock, and he moans as Kei touches him, his body curving sharply off the bed as the other’s fingers close against him. Kei watches Yuu’s face, watches the color come back to his lips and his eyelashes flutter his vision back to clarity; and then he tightens his grip on Yuu’s cock, and shoves hard at Yuu’s throat, and watches Yuu arch into orgasm made soundless by Kei’s hold cutting off the moan in his throat. Kei drags him through the pulses of heat, lets Yuu come over Kei’s fingers and his own shirt in hot spills of liquid to meet each of Kei’s strokes, and he imagines he can feel the syllables of his name under the slick weight of his fingers, as if it were possible to hear the sound of Yuu’s voice through the vibration catching at his palm.

Kei lets Yuu go, after, lets his brother gasp and cough himself back into ordinary breathing while he slides free and strips off the weight of his suddenly too-hot shirt and shorts to leave him just the thin cover of sweat-damp boxers pulled back up around his hips. Yuu is still lying across the bed when Kei looks back to him, his knees still angled open and his eyes unfocused; he looks dazed, overheated, as if he’s melted across the sheets and forgotten how to pull himself back together.

“Put your shorts back on,” Kei says, not bothering to ease the rough edge of lingering satisfaction from his voice or to pull his gaze away from the rising bruises of his hands against Yuu’s throat. “We should take a shower before anyone gets home.”

Yuu swallows. Kei can see the motion work down the column of his throat. “Yes, Kei,” he says, obedient even with his voice raw in his abused throat, and he turns sideways on the bed, bracing a hand against the sheets to push himself up. Kei watches him move, watches the pleasure-slack tremor in Yuu’s arm and listens to the whimper of friction in his throat as he brings his legs back together, as he sits up to swing his feet over the edge of the bed. His hair is a mess, his eyes are hazy; Kei suspects if he were to touch Yuu’s hands he’d find them to be trembling telltale motion for the heat still lingering in his veins. But it’s his throat Kei’s looking at, it’s the shadows of his own fingerprints Kei sees, and when he steps in and reaches out it’s to curl his fingers around the far side of Yuu’s neck, to brace the other in place as he leans in to sigh heat against Yuu’s skin and to fit his lips to the thrum of a heartbeat in Yuu’s throat. Yuu’s head tilts to the side, Yuu’s voice catches on a whimper, and Kei shuts his eyes and lets the heat of Yuu’s flushed skin radiate into his lips.

Yuu’s going to have to keep his jacket zipped up over the marks for a week at least. Kei can feel the thought purr satisfaction enough to sate even his possessiveness.


End file.
